The abandoned building in Tokyo was eerily silent, the creaks and groans of the decaying structure echoing in the stillness. Lightning Man stood tall in the shadows, his masked figure barely visible in the dim light. His posture was calm, almost serene, despite the tension that had followed Sato, Valora, and Abbigail into the room. The flickering fluorescent light overhead cast strange shadows across the broken floor, giving the place an air of quiet menace.
Valora crossed her arms, the fiery temper she was known for barely contained as she stared down the masked man.
Valora: So this is the great Lightning Man, huh? (Her words were sharp, her Mexican accent heavy with disdain.) What exactly do you bring to the table? Porque... you weren't there in Pyongyang. You didn't see what they did to us, what we had to do to get out.
She shook her head, her voice hardening.
Valora: So forgive me if I don't trust you.
Standing tall and calm, Lightning Man met her fiery gaze without flinching. His voice, when it came, was steady and thoughtful, not defensive.
Lightning Man: You're right, Valora. I wasn't there in Pyongyang. I didn't see the hell you went through. But I've seen my share of darkness.
He stepped forward, his presence commanding but not aggressive.
Lightning Man:I wasn't born a fighter like many of you. I didn't grow up dreaming of becoming a wrestler. I was… ordinary, just another guy from a Midwest town in the United States. But then, something happened—something that changed me forever.
Sato watched Lightning Man carefully, sensing the gravity in his voice, while Valora's expression remained hard, though she listened.
Lightning Man: I was struck by lightning. It was a freak accident, but it didn't just scar me physically. It left me with a gift—or a curse, depending on how you look at it. It gave me a speed and agility that felt… unnatural. I survived that bolt, but it changed me. From then on, I couldn't sit back and watch as the world fell apart. I knew I had to do something.
Valora's eyebrow lifted, her skepticism still present.
Valora: So, you think because lightning hit you, you're some kind of superhero?
Lightning Man let out a small chuckle.
Lightning Man: Valora, I don't think I'm a superhero. I know I'm not invincible. I don't have the power to change the world by myself. But I have something I believe in—fighting against evil, against those who think they can crush the weak and exploit the helpless. I saw Lim, Hwang, and Moon trying to take you and Sato down. I couldn't just stand there and watch them tear you apart.
He paused for a moment, his voice steady but filled with conviction.
Lightning Man: I became Lightning Man because I believe in something bigger than myself. Valora, I'm not here to get in your way, whether you believe it or not. I'm here because I know the kind of darkness those North Koreans represent. They want to punish you. They want to burn Ultimate Wrestling to the ground in revenge and show the world that the Emperor was right about America. I'm not going to let that happen.
Valora narrowed her eyes, her hands gripping the railing before her.
Valora: Yeah, but why get involved with this? Lim's father, that bastard Kim Jong-Un, took us prisoner and made us fight in that Death Sport Tournament. We wouldn't be standing here today if it weren't for Sato. So tell me—why the hell did you get involved? This isn't your fight, cabrón.
Lightning Man looked directly into Valora's eyes, his voice unwavering.
Lightning Man: I got involved because I've seen evil like that before and learned you don't wait for it to come to you. You go after it; you fight it head-on. I may not have been there in Pyongyang, but I know what they can do. I know what they represent—the kind of unchecked power that destroys everything on its path. I couldn't watch Lim clobber you and Sato relentlessly while Moon and Hwang held you in place. That's not wrestling. That's not a match. That's cruelty. It's evil, pure and simple.
He straightened, his voice growing stronger, more intense.
Lightning Man: I've fought people like them before—men who think the world is theirs to destroy, to remake in their image. I've seen what happens when good people do nothing. The Emperor’s Avengers? They're not just angry. They're not just here for vengeance. They want to kill you, Valora. They want to kill Sato. They want to erase everyone who stood in their way when they lost their precious Emperor.
Valora studied him for a long moment, the hard edge to her gaze slowly softening though her skepticism lingered.
Valora: You talk a good game, but this isn't some comic book, amigo. This is real life. If you screw up in that ring, it's not just you that's gonna get hurt—it's all of us. So, you better be ready.
Lightning Man nodded, his voice calm but filled with resolve.
Lightning Man: I'm ready. I've been fighting my whole life, Valora. You may not trust me yet, but I'm not here to play games. I'm here to stop people like Lim, Hun, Hwang, and Moon from finishing what they started. I'm here to keep them from turning this match into their twisted version of justice. Whether you believe me or not, I'm on your side.
Sato, sensing that Valora's anger was cooling, stepped forward.
Sato: Valora, I know you don't trust easily, but Lightning Man saved us in that cage match. He didn't have to get involved, but he did. We need him in this. We need to trust each other to survive this Death Match.
Valora sighed long, rubbing her temples as if trying to ward off a headache.
Valora: Fine. But if you screw up… if you get in my way… (She points at Lightning Man, her eyes narrowing.) I'll put you down myself.
Lightning Man gave a small, respectful nod.
Lightning Man: I wouldn't expect anything less.
Abbigail, who had been quiet, finally spoke, her voice soft but steady.
Abbigail: We need to figure out how to work together. The North Koreans—they're ruthless, and they won't hesitate to tear us apart if we're not united. They are like a well-oiled commie fighting machine.
Valora glanced at Abbigail, then at Lightning Man, her posture relaxing just a bit.
Valora: Alright, let's do this. But we do it my way. No heroics. No grand gestures. We fight to win. Got it?
Lightning Man nodded, his voice filled with quiet determination.
Lightning Man: Got it.
Later That Afternoon
Scuffing boots echoed off the cracked concrete floor, the air thick with a faint mustiness that clung to the walls like a ghost of the building's former life. They'd cleared a large section in the middle, just enough to lay down makeshift training mats. Steel beams loomed overhead, casting long, thin shadows that danced in the flickering light. Barbed wire coils lay in one corner, a cruel reminder of the match they were preparing for.
Valora stood with her arms crossed, eyes narrow and sharp, watching Lightning Man suspiciously. She'd never trusted people who hid behind masks. There are too many secrets and too much room for lies. Sato stood beside her, his expression unreadable but pensive, while Abbigail adjusted her gloves, glancing nervously between them all.
Lightning Man was the first to break the tense silence. Although his mask slightly muffled his voice, his tone was steady and calm.
Lightning Man: We must determine how to combine our strengths.
Valora rolled her eyes, letting out a sharp laugh.
Valora: Strengths? And what exactly are your strengths, Lightning Man? Flying around the ring? High kicks and acrobatics? That's great for the show, but this is a Death Match, cabrón. You better be able to do more than just entertain the crowd. We're going up against killers.
Her words were harsh, but they weren't wrong. Valora had been through death matches before. She'd bled, suffered, and won. This wasn't just about winning a wrestling match; it was survival. Despite his heroic moniker, Lightning Man was still an enigma to her.
Standing a few feet away, Sato looked at Lightning Man, his gaze softening. Something was off about the guy—not just the mask or the superhero persona, but something deeper—a weight he carried that didn't add up.
Sato: Valora's right. This isn't a normal match. Why are you so involved in this? You weren't even part of the crew when all this went down with Kim Jong-Un. What's your stake in this fight?
Lightning Man's posture stiffened momentarily, but he didn't flinch. His eyes, barely visible through the mask, flickered with a distant sadness. He looked down at the floor as if searching for the right words.
** Lightning Man: ** This fight is more personal to me than you know. It's not just about stopping bad guys or fighting for justice.
Valora raised an eyebrow, her skepticism intensifying.
Valora: Personal? You don't have any skin in this game, Lightning Man. You weren't there in Pyongyang when we were all taken prisoner. You didn't fight for your life in that Death Sport tournament. You weren't there when the missile program they built launched, and we were doing everything we could to save lives!
Lightning Man turned to face her fully now, his voice hardening slightly.
Lightning Man: No, I wasn't there. But I know what War Hammer Industries did and how much destruction they caused. They weren't just behind the missile program— they've been behind many disasters over the decades.
The warehouse fell silent as Lightning Man's words hung in the air. Abbigail, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally spoke up.
Abbigail: What do you mean? What happened?
Lightning Man took a deep breath, then he pounds his fist to his chest, grunting in pain. His eyes, filled with determination and sorrow, locked onto Sato's.
Lightning Man: A disaster hit my town as a kid. A train carrying prototype weapons, developed by War Hammer, derailed near Battle Creek. The explosion wiped out a whole neighborhood. My family barely survived… but a lot of my friends didn't. That's when I learned what it meant to fight back.
Valora studied him closely, her arms still crossed, but the suspicion in her eyes softened slightly. She understood loss better than most but wasn't ready to trust so easily.
Valora: So this is about revenge for you? That's what all this is about?
Lightning Man shook his head, his voice firm.
Lightning Man: It's not about revenge but stopping monsters like the North Koreans and War Hammer from causing more pain. I couldn't sit by and watch Hwang and Moon hold you all down while Lim beat you bloody. I'm not here to show off. I'm here because I've been fighting these people my whole life. I couldn't let them win again.
There was a pause as Valora considered his words. She didn't fully trust him, but there was no denying the conviction in his voice. Sato stepped forward, breaking the silence.
Sato: We've all lost something to these people. Kim Jong-Un, War Hammer, Allen Anderson, Michael Vastrix—they've left scars on all of us. But Lightning Man's right. We're in this together now and must figure out how to survive.
The dim lights flickered again as if on cue, casting an eerie glow across the room. Valora uncrossed her arms, stepping closer to the group. Her gaze was still on Lightning Man but less hostile now.
Valora: Fine. But don't get in my way, and don't expect me to save you when shit hits the fan.
Lightning Man chuckled heartedly, his eyes gleaming with resolve.
Lightning Man: Leave the saving to me, Valora. It's my job.
The group began testing their skills on the mats as the conversation shifted towards their strategy. Valora and Sato locked into a sparring match, testing each other's reflexes. At the same time, Lightning Man practiced his high-flying moves, vaulting off the rusted steel beams like a gymnast. Abbigail watched, her brow furrowed as she struggled with her nerves.
Suddenly, a sharp sound cut through the air—a loud metal snap. The group froze as they turned toward the corner where the barbed wire was coiled. A section had come loose and lashed across the room, slicing through a nearby stack of crates like a hot knife through butter.
Sato glanced at the wire, his expression grim.
Sato: That's a reminder of what we're walking into. That Cell isn't just dangerous—it's a death trap.
Still catching her breath from sparring, Valora wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, her voice lower now.
Valora: I've fought in death matches before. They don't just test your strength but your will to survive. The Cell doesn't care if you're the fastest, the strongest, or the most skilled. It's about endurance and how much pain you can take.
Abbigail shuddered, her eyes fixated on the barbed wire. She knew what was coming, but hearing Valora's words made it all the more real. She turned toward her mentor, frustration boiling over.
Abbigail: Do you even care? You talk about surviving, but acting like this doesn't matter. Like you've already given up.
Valora's eyes snapped to Abbigail, the fire returning.
Valora: Given up? You think I don't care, niña? I've been stuck in this hellhole for months, under surveillance, treated like a criminal for doing what I had to do. Don't you dare question my will to fight!
Abbigail didn't back down, her voice shaking but steady.
Abbigail: Then fight like it matters! We need you. I need you!
For a moment, Valora was silent, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed, a mix of exhaustion and frustration weighing her down.
Valora: I am fighting, Abbigail. But you need to understand—this isn't just a match for me. It's another war. One I didn't ask for, but one I'll win. I won't let them take me down. Not now. I still have gas left in the tank, I'm not a little bitch like Kronin.
Sato watched the exchange, feeling the weight of his guilt settle in his chest. He'd been so focused on keeping them all together that he hadn't stopped considering how much they carried. Valora's frustration, Abbigail's fear, and his demons converged in this moment.
Sato: We're all in this together. None of us can afford to fall apart now.
The group fell into a tense silence, each wrestling with thoughts. The Cell loomed over them like a dark cloud, but they were still standing for now. And that was all they could do.
For now.